Last Tear
by LSMunch
Summary: What if Hermione died? How would Draco handle it?


Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Harry Potter. It all belongs to that genius of a woman JK Rowling and I somewhat hate her for it.

Now, on with the show!

_**Last Tear**_

_LS Munch/McCoy_

I woke up and rolled over to find an empty bed. I sat up and was about to call to see if you were in the kitchen when I remembered. I remembered the pain of the day before, the constant questions pounding in my head, the flow of memories and tears that blended to form a steady, stabbing pain in my heart, slowly cracking it into a million pieces. I fell back down on my pillow and stared at the ceiling. I felt tears stinging my eyes and let them come, knowing that it would be useless to try and stop them. They rolled down into my hair and onto the pillow, but I couldn't care less. I just wanted you back and with every passing moment, I wished it more and more as fresh tears fell faster and faster.

Eventually, the surge of pain and tears ceased, but the torment of my heart still remained. I rose from my bed and went into the bathroom, rinsing my face with cold water and drying it on one of the soft green towels hanging on the rack. The light smell of your perfume still lingered there and almost brought a fresh wave of tears to overcome me. I rested my head against the wall, trying to regain myself. In the end, I succeeded and went to get dressed. I pulled on the shirt that you had gotten me for my birthday. I threw on a pair of pants, but no robes. I went into the kitchen, yet found I wasn't hungry. I knew I had to eat, but I just couldn't. The kitchen felt so empty without you making tea or eggs and I buried my head in my arms.

"What am I supposed to do?" I said aloud to the empty room. I heard a knock on the door and hauled myself up to answer, not really wanting company at the moment. Opening the door, I saw who it was and felt my face relax. "Come in." We walked into the living room and I collapsed into a chair. "Please, sit." I had no idea why I was being so formal, but he sat and looked at me questioningly.

"I never thought that I'd see the day when a Slytherin would befriend a Gryffindor, let alone marry her," he said. I felt a new stab of pain my heart as he said this. Tears were already threatening to spill over and I fought viscously to keep them at bay.

"I thought the same, until it happened and I realised that it was the best thing that happened to me," I found myself saying. He shook his head. "Believe me, I didn't think it was possible either." I felt anger building in my chest at my godfather's reaction to everything that had happened to me since yesterday. "If you had gone through the same thing, would you want me to act like you are right now?" I snapped out. I didn't want to be mad with him, but it was either anger or tears, and I'd had enough tears to last me a lifetime.

"No, I suppose not." My annoyance softened at the look on his face and his answer, but the tears were even more threatening now and it was all I could do to prevent them from running down my face. "I hate to bring it up, but the Ministry wants to know when you're coming back to work."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my hands. Damn Ministry, I thought, angry again. "It's not enough that my wife just died, is it? They're already badgering me about when am I coming back." I felt a few tears slipped past my eyelids and I brushed them away. I wasn't about to let my godfather see me crying; he wouldn't understand why.

He looked at me sadly, then said "I don't care when you come back, but the Ministry seems to think your job is too important for you to not be there." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Though I would _love_ to stay and talk, I must go. I'm needed back at the Order." He stood, and I rose as well, feeling like I was to again be alone and suddenly it occurred to me that I wanted him to stay.

"Could you tell Lupin that I'll be back at Headquarters within the week?" I asked, instead of begging him to stay, and he nodded solemnly. I shook his hand and he looked at me sadly again, the look in his eyes bordering on pity. "I'll be fine, trust me."

"Sometimes I don't think I should," and with that, he left. I fell back into my chair and closed my eyes, feeling again the ever-present pain. It was a hundred times worse than when I had been injured in one of the raids we did on the Dark Lord's prisons. I sat there for God knows how long, thinking back on everything we'd gone through and how now it's over, though I hope the memories never end. Sitting there, I had an idea, a way to keep the memories.

I rose and went into our workroom. I opened drawers, frantically looking for a journal, or something of the sort. I tore through parchment and documents like a man possessed until I found one, surprisingly, and sat down at my desk, pulling out a quill and dipping it into an inkwell. I began to write, the memories flowing down from my head, through my arm and into the quill, words appearing like magic on the paper. I wrote until I couldn't remember any more and even then, I was writing until dark. Before I closed the book, a lone tear slipped past my defenses and slid slowly down my cheek. As the tear fell onto the open page, I thought, this is the last tear.

A/N: Thanks for reading, now all that's left is to review. So, what are you waiting for? REVIEW!

Other than that, I have no idea if I should write a prologue/epilogue thingy or not. Any ideas?


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